Eat the whole cookie

It has been almost a week since my last post. As a brand new blogger, I am a tad nervous about losing whatever "fan base" I may have up to this point, however big or small it is, if I am not diligent about posting often and posting well. I want to impact my readers, lift them up, call them to think deeper...whatever God wants from this for them. So staying silent for 6 days has indeed conjured up a nervous sense in me. {{stress}} But it's a good stress. I was silent because one does not just rush onward after a sad death. One does not just charge ahead and start making jokes or espousing on life, when grief is still hanging around in the air. God wanted me to use this time to digest where my life is, to ponder what is good and right about it, to let grief hang around as a valuable tool. And hang though it may, I do feel that it is time for a new blog post. Let's talk about cookies...

The other day I entered the kitchen to find a mound of black round cookies on my counter. And some on the table. And, of course, some on the floor. The kitchen and the living room floor. Ground into the carpet. Black cookies circles everywhere.

It could mean only one thing...Kendall (age 2) had found the Oreos.

[Some of you are probably wondering where I was whilst the offending toddler was eating all the cookies. Never mind. It is irrelevant. I am an attentive Mom. Yes, I am. Despite the cookie evidence to the contrary that day, I typically know what she is up to. That is not the point here anyway, thankyouverymuch.]

After discovering the mess of cookies without guts, I went searching for the mess-maker and found her in the bathroom, attempting to wash her hands, with a face so covered in black crumbs that she could have doubled as a hobo. It was amusing. Sort of.

"Kendall, what happened to the cookies?"
"I don't know."
"What do you mean you don't know? What are you washing off of your hands?"
"I don't know." (This is her way of avoiding the subject, as if claiming ignorance is somehow going to throw me off the case.)
"Kendall, were you eating Oreos?"
"Yes." (Ahaa! Now we are onto something.)
"Why did you only eat the white part?"
"Because the white part is yummy." (Duh. Dumb question, Mom.)
"Well, why didn't you eat the black part too?"
"Because the black part is yucky." (Of course it is. They wrap the white part in something yucky on purpose, you know.)
"Honey, you can't just eat the white part. You have to eat the whole cookie."
"But I don't want the whole cookie. I only like the white part."
At this point I said something prof0und and mature like "Then I am just going to stop buying cookies for you." (Yea, right, like that will fix her. We both know it is not true. She'll get Oreos again. Spoiled baby.)

As I walked away from the messy toddler to the crumbs in my carpet (which I did make her help clean, by the way) I got to thinking, How often am I just like my toddler? How often do I take only the part I like, and try to leave behind the rest? How often am I given a good and perfect gift, and then proceed to pick it apart looking for only the best?

So, here for your reading pleasure, are my lessons from the cookie...

1. When God gives us something in life, even if it is packaged a little differently than we would have liked, He does not want us to embrace only the good stuff and try to peel away the rest. We must try to make the most of everything we are dealt. We have to eat the whole cookie.

2. When we try to pick and choose what we are given, it is a lot more work, and we get a little messier. We may even end up looking like a hobo with black crumbs all over our faces, rather than having just a few crumbs on our fingers. Everyone will see what we have done. In the long run it's easier just to eat the whole cookie.

3. When we attempt to use a gift in the wrong order, or in a way other than that which was intended, we can leave behind a mess that someone else has to clean up. We leave big black circles sitting around, as a trail of breadcrumbs, that demand another's attention. We have to eat the whole cookie.

4. When God gives us something that He chooses just for us, He knows that it is only the entire gift that will satisfy. When we pick and choose that which we will embrace, we are left longing for more, feeling eternally unsatisfied. The white part of an Oreo is not nearly as filling as the whole cookie. We have to eat the whole cookie.

5. Unless you are a child, the white part of an Oreo is not really a stand-alone taste. A few bites, mabye; but then we find ourselves longing for the perfect compliment: some black crunchy chocolate stuff. Likewise, many of our most good and perfect gifts in life are not meant to stand alone. Sure, it may be great for a time, but after a while we need to be sandwiched in the entire gift. Life gets tough. Maybe you will feel better if you eat a cookie.

Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus. 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18